The Disappearance of Miss Bronte
by Dreamatorium
Summary: Charlotte Bronte goes on a Doctor Who adventure! The famous author is one day snatched from her Haworth home by a weeping angel, leaving her sisters behind and landing her in modern London where she is out of time and out of place. She soon meets Clara Oswald and the twelfth Doctor who go on a rescue mission to bring Charlotte back home...
1. Part 1 - Taken

**THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MISS BRONTE**

 **PART I - HAWORTH 1846**

 **Chapter 1 - _Taken_**

Anne sighed as she read today's headline in the _Haworth Weekly_. The bold lettering of the words **"MISS BRONTE GONE MISSING!"** made her sick to the stomach, although it had happened one month ago.

That was when Charlotte had disappeared without a trace. Anne wished her sister could have made it into the newspaper for a less tragic reason. As the youngest sibling, Anne had always looked up to Charlotte, especially at a time like this when it truly seemed that they could have hope times might change. The three sisters had only just begun having their stories published.

Well – except for Charlotte, unfortunately. Her manuscript of The Professor had been rejected recently, but Anne and Emily had succeeded in publishing their first novels Agnes Grey and Wuthering Heights. It was such a revolutionary time for women! Well, granted of course, the publishers had no idea they were women just yet, but Anne was sure it would come out eventually.

Only now that her sister was lost and nobody seemed to know what had happened to her, Anne was feeling drained and hopeless again. The family had done everything they could – to no avail. They had reported Charlotte's disappearance to the police to start with.

Once the officers had recognised Charlotte as a missing person after an absence of 24 hours, posters had been hung up all over town and a little while later, a detective had taken over her case, reassuring the family that Charlotte would return eventually.

Anne had noticed a slight hint of a Scottish accent when the detective had spoken to her. "People don't simply disappear," he had claimed, "Usually, there is a perfectly ordinary explanation."

Well, Charlotte was no ordinary woman, so perhaps something extraordinary had happened to her that she couldn't tell her family about, but why would she leave no note? Why would she not reassure her family in any way that she was safe?

Anne was worried beyond her wits that her sister was in dangerous and scared she would never return, but this thought was so awful, she couldn't bear it and quickly put the newspaper aside, resuming her writing, so her mind was otherwise occupied.

* * *

Meanwhile, Emily was sitting at her desk in a daze. She couldn't help but rewind what had happened the day Charlotte had disappeared over and over again. Her knowledge tormented her. She knew something her family didn't.

She knew what had happened to Charlotte, but she couldn't tell anyone. Nobody would believe her. Perhaps they would even call her insane or lock her up. Emily could already guess what the neighbours would say:

"It's just another one of her stories," or, "She was always an imaginative soul."

Emily might lose her credibility entirely, but the images played in her mind's eye on a loop, never ceasing, plaguing her with guilt, although she knew it wasn't her fault.

She was not to blame, but what would people think if they knew the truth? Tears began to form in Emily's eyes as she began to remember once more:

They had come back from an outing in Keighley where the three sisters sometimes went to the library to borrow the odd book and perhaps find inspiration within them. The three of them were avid readers and also loved the outdoors.

Hence, they often went for walks. The walk to Keighley took about an hour, so the three sisters were rather tired by the time they arrived back at the Haworth parsonage.

Nevertheless, Emily and Charlotte had decided to go on another jaunt on the moors, to which they had direct access from the parsonage. Anne had gone inside, feeling exhausted.

When Charlotte and Emily eventually headed back to the house, crossing the graveyard as always, which was located directly in front of their home, Emily had noticed something strange. A stone angel statue was standing in the graveyard.

She had never seen it before, so she wondered who could have placed it there. Charlotte had also remarked that the statue seemed out of place. She had a view of the graveyard from her room and looked out every day at the gravestones, standing in uncoordinated rows, not the most pleasing of sights, but – if anyone - Charlotte would certainly be the first person to notice any changes.

While Emily had pondered whether the statue had simply been overlooked all these years, a slight hint of doubt still in her mind, Charlotte had known immediately that something was wrong. Whatever the reason for the statue's sudden appearance, both sisters had an ominous feeling in their stomachs as they beheld the stone angel, which seemed eerily supernatural.

At first, Charlotte had wondered briefly if she had seen such a statue before, but because they had to cross the graveyard on a daily basis to reach the centre of town, she had to rule out this possibility. Surely, one of the sisters would have noticed a stone angel as splendid as this one.

On the day in question, Emily and Charlotte had stood staring in fascination for a moment, then they had turned away and kept walking. "Should we ask father if he had it installed?" Emily had inquired, thinking he might know more on the matter. Charlotte had nodded in agreement - but it was only a few moments later, as they had taken a few steps forward, that the Brontë sisters had heard a rustling of leaves behind them.

Quickly turning round, they were aghast at the sight they beheld. To their horror, the statue had moved. "What kind of devilry is this?" Emily had exclaimed, terrified. Charlotte had hesitated for a moment, then gestured to Emily to continue walking, so they could see if they had imagined things - but again the statue moved still closer towards them.

"What in the world!" Charlotte had gasped. "Are we being tricked?"

As Charlotte was rather short-sighted, she now chose to rely on Emily's judgement over her own.

"It seems to be following us every time we look away," Emily said in amazement. "But how can that be!" Charlotte was astonished.

She couldn't believe her eyes. Unwilling to believe in any supernatural explanation, Charlotte chose to trust her better judgment: "Let's move," she ordered - but even while she was speaking, having taken her eyes off the angel for a mere second, the statue moved towards them once more, this time a lot faster. When they turned around again, the two sisters were horrified to see the angel standing right behind them, one arm outstretched, mouth wide open with sharp little fangs on display.

They were truly in danger now.


	2. Part 1 - Kidnapped

**THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MISS BRONTE**

 **PART I - HAWORTH 1846**

 **Chapter 2 - _Kidnapped!_**

"Oh my Lord!" Charlotte had gasped.

"WHAT IS THAT?" Emily was speechless.

She had never seen such a vile creature in her life. It seemed as if they were powerless against this angel – or perhaps demon was a more apt description.

All they could do now was attempt to stare it down. "What do you think it will do to us if we look away?" Emily had said shakily, finally finding her voice.

"Whatever you do," Charlotte had replied firmly, "don't close your eyes. Hold your gaze. Don't even so much as blink!"

Even as the words came out of her mouth, Charlotte was surprised at herself.

She wasn't even quite sure herself how she knew this, but it was information that had been saved in her memory.

Perhaps it was mere intuition or something more. She knew this was her only way to survive. So they moved slowly back to the parsonage, walking backwards, keeping their eyes on their enemy, but unfortunately they were only human, and eventually, Emily blinked.

What happened next was too horrible for Emily to bare. It had all happened in a flash. The angel had grabbed a hold of Charlotte's shoulder and both of them had vanished into thin air.

Emily couldn't help but blame herself, even though she knew this was pointless.

Whatever they had faced back there in the graveyard, was not her fault. They had probably never had a chance.

This was where that odd police detective with the Scottish accent had come in.

He was a strange fellow from the beginning, going by the name of John Smith, but he preferred a different moniker. He called himself 'The Doctor,' but had said rather pompously, "you can call me 'Detective', if you like. That'll do just fine."

This was a very odd thing to say, indeed. That was why Emily had had her suspicions about this 'Detective,' but it also seemed like he was their best bet at finding Charlotte, even though he didn't seem like he was in his right mind half of the time. He seemed to be far from ordinary, but how exactly he seemed to know what had happened with her sister was a mystery to Emily.

She had run into the 'Doctor' a day after Charlotte's disappearance. He had told her he was no ordinary detective really, but that he couldn't fully explain. All Emily needed to know was that he would do his best to save Charlotte.

At the end of their conversation, he had said, in a rather matter-of-fact manner, "After all, this is Charlotte Brontë we're talking about!" as if she were a person of great importance.

That was when Emily knew the detective came from a different place, maybe even another time. But of course, this thought only came to her later when she realized his abilities were out of this world.

They were not even human at all, but during their first few encounters all Emily had thought was that this man – this 'Detective' – was rather full of himself indeed, and she wondered what on Earth could make him feel so completely certain.


	3. Part 2 - Meeting Clara Oswald

**THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MISS BRONTE**

 **PART II – LONDON 2018**

 **Chapter 3 - _Meeting Clara Oswald_**

Charlotte screamed when she felt the angel's claws dig into her shoulder, but the pain only lasted for a second. They had travelled through time and space, but all Charlotte knew, was that they had flown somewhere far far away.

The sheer force of the wind had completely disheveled her usually very neatly tucked back hair, as she had been swept away to an unknown land. As they had tumbled through the skies, Charlotte had to close her eyes to stop feeling motion sickness.

The fog had dampened her skin, the sheer shock of this sudden, unforeseen journey had dried up Charlotte's throat while her heart was pounding a mile a minute.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the journey had suddenly come to a bumpy halt. Charlotte didn't quite realise this until she felt a searing pain in her behind. She had fallen onto the ground unceremoniously, the angel having dropped her in the middle of Trafalgar Square.

It was now standing just a few feet away from the ailing woman – a very odd sight indeed. The people rushing by took no notice of Charlotte's distress, continuing about their busy schedules unawares. And while Charlotte was still busy overcoming her dizziness, the angel had quietly disappeared into thin air and the authoress was left to her own devices.

XXX

Charlotte had landed smack-dab in the middle of London, almost 200 years in the future, but all she knew at this point was that she was in a very large and noisy city, bustling with people who all seemed to be in a great hurry.

Many of them were transported in strange rectangular vehicles emanating smoke behind them (which Charlotte would later come to know as motor cars). The people of London were too busy to notice a disoriented Charlotte Brontë sitting on the ground, although she looked completely out of place.

That was, until a man dropped a few pounds into her bonnet, which had fallen at her feet. What this man thought he saw, was perhaps a starving actress who hadn't had her big break yet or he may have simply taken pity on her.

As more and more passers-by rushed past Charlotte, she slowly got up and brushed herself down, trying to avoid attracting any more attention. She looked completely helpless, squatting on the ground. However, as she got up, she couldn't help crying out as a sharp pain shot down her spine.

Just at that moment, a young girl walked by who was ready to help. Any other person would have wondered whether they were dealing with a genuine emergency or merely just a woman out of her mind or possibly drunk, but this girl was special – it was Clara Oswald, the Doctor's current companion.

"Are you alright, Miss?" the girl asked Charlotte, who couldn't respond at first, grimacing with pain.

After a few minutes, she panted: "Yes, I'm better now, thank you, Miss." Charlotte noticed the girl frowning, and wondered what she must look like to her.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" the girl asked again, feeling a strange sympathy with Charlotte, but she stayed for another reason. In fact, she was meant to be there.

"Here," she said, taking Charlotte's arm, "let's take a seat somewhere, so you can compose yourself."

Charlotte nodded thankfully. She was glad to have found at least one helpful soul in this godforsaken place, but she was unaware of the fact that the young helpful girl had spent most of that day looking for her. Not only had she been expecting this woman, she was now solely responsible for her well-being.

Clara looked at Charlotte in the most understanding way. She smiled warmly, little crinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes, but she looked drowsy, her eyeslids drooping.

This was not simply due to the fact that she had been rushing from monument to monument, looking out for the arrival of Charlotte Brontë.

The Doctor had told her to send some of her friends out as well, but the girl had thought it better not to involve any more people in these strange happenings, which had only recently become part of her everyday life. Clara Oswald was the most recent of the Doctor's companions.

She had not had a decent night's sleep in a long time and it was quite obvious from her red-rimmed eyes. Charlotte wondered how a young girl like her could look so tired. Clara dutifully supported Charlotte as they walked towards one of the benches nearby. She then asked her: "What is your name, Miss? You have been so helpful."

"Clara. Clara Oswald," the chestnut-haired girl responded. "Nice to meet you, Clara. It is my pleasure. I would like to thank you. You have been too kind."

"Oh, it's nothing!" Clara said, knowing the responsibility she had in taking care of Charlotte. Being the Doctor's companion, she had been given the task of finding Charlotte and looking out for her until the Doctor could join them. He had called her that very morning while she was in the middle of teaching one of her classes with yet another emergency.

These emergencies had begun to interfere with her personal life as well. She had recently told her boyfriend about time-travel and it had opened up endless discussions. Now, after having travelled with the Doctor for two months and having to put out fires every other day all over the world, her budding relationship with her colleague Danny had suffered immensely. This was why she had decided to take a break.

It had all been too much – until she had heard that Charlotte Brontë was in town. This was an emergency she wanted to be involved in!


	4. Part 2 - A Whole New World

**THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MISS BRONTE**

 **PART II - LONDON** **2018**

 **Chapter 4 -** ** _A Whole New World_**

What Clara hadn't anticipated, though, was that Charlotte was in complete shock at her new surroundings. She was fascinated by the flashing billboard signs splattered across the giant buildings above shop windows. The signs said things like **_"COCA COLA - taste the feeling!"_** on red glossy banners at Piccadilly Circus. Charlotte wondered how any drink could make one feel any sentiment so strongly and how it seemed that this world was full of disclaimers and advertisements, telling people what they 'needed' in order to be happy.

Charlotte saw every third passer-by with their head down, fingers typing frantically onto small electronic devices, which seemed to be a way to communicate with other people without directly talking to them. Clara told Charlotte later these were 'smartphones,' but it seemed to Charlotte that no matter how smart or clever this new world might be – the people were behaving rather stupidly, eyes glued to their phones, barely looking up when crossing the street.

The shop windows the two women passed by had bald human-looking dolls wearing their sparkling new designer wear – whether it was Versace, Prada or Gucci. The new spring collection looked colourful and bright, as opposed to the current rainy London weather. The inviting shop windows seemed to beckon Charlotte to take a look inside. She was a bit dazed by it all, but whenever Charlotte seemed too distracted, Clara led her forward quickly. Perhaps there would be time for sight-seeing later. However, Charlotte wasn't even supposed to be here, let alone get sucked into millennial London life, so Clara rushed her on.

What Charlotte felt in this moment was a sensory overload. Cars honking and rushing by, people yacking on their phones, dogs barking, billboard lights flashing - and all the while the city was so brimming with activity and a feeling that the world had sped up somehow, that Charlotte felt completely lost. There seemed to be no time to take a breath. The pedestrians were rushing to their business meetings or glass offices, most of them seemed to take themselves far too seriously, stern expressions on their faces, and otherwise the crowds seemed to all have very urgent errands to run. It was a harsh and hostile world, where Charlotte felt, even though she stood out with her clothing, she remained unnoticed and anonymous. She began to feel rather small and unimportant.

Asking Clara for a short break from rushing to the tube, Charlotte lost her footing, tripping into the road where a red double-decker bus was just about to pull in. The bus driver honked loudly and Charlotte jumped in fright, as Clara pulled her back onto the pavement where people were beginning to gather to get on the bus. In all this confusion, Charlotte ran into one of the older gentlemen trying to get off the bus as the crowd thickened.

He bellowed: "Oy! Watch it, Missy!" as he stumbled into Charlotte who quietly stammered, "Oh…I'm s-s-orry," as she helped him straighten up. "Watch where you're going!" he said sternly to the flustered woman. Charlotte had caught him before anything had happened, but the man didn't seem very grateful. "Alright. No matter," he grumbled rudely and went on his way. "Come, Charlotte!" said Clara, holding her arm. "We'd better be going."

Next, they made their way to the Picadilly Circus tube station and headed towards Leicester Square, where they took the northern line. Clara lived in East Finchley, where she wanted to take Charlotte to straighten herself out and wait for the Doctor to arrive – who, in the meantime, had been reassuring a worried Brontë family about their sibling's safety. The Doctor had succeeded in faking his position as a detective in Haworth, so he could inform the Brontës he would bring Charlotte home safely. At this very moment, he was on his way to Clara's flat.

As Clara and Charlotte sat in the tube, they noticed the elderly grumpy man was also sitting nearby. He was currently glowering at Charlotte whenever she smiled at him apologetically. "Don't pay any attention to him," Clara told her. "He probably can't help being nasty. Don't take it personally." The man had a briefcase with him, which he was now opening. Charlotte wondered what he was carrying with him and what he seemed so grouchy about. Then she watched as his eyes glazed over and he simply stared at the opposite wall in a daze. He seemed startled when the next stop was announced: Kentish town. Jumping up hurriedly, he headed for the door while trying to shut his briefcase roughly, but as the tube halted to a stop and the man waited for the doors to open, Charlotte noticed that a small piece of paper had falled out of the briefcase. She lept up quickly, meaning to run after him, but Clara stopped her. "Don't," she said, because the doors were already shutting again and the man was on the platform outside. "What if it was important?" Charlotte cried. A few people raised their eyebrows at her, because she seemed out of sorts. "Calm down," whispered Clara. "You can look and see what it was." The card read:

 _ **Wesley Rochester**_

 _ **Real Estate Agent**_

 _ **53 Thornton Road, Kentish Town, London**_

 _ **Office:**_ _ **+44 (0) 1923 519 157**_

 _ **Mobile: +44 (0) 7708 41 127**_

"Oh, no worries," said Clara to Charlotte. "It's just a business card. I'm sure he has many more." But from this moment forth, this grumpy Mr. Rochester would not leave Charlotte's mind, even after she had forgotten all about her little London adventure. Unbeknownst to her, he would seep unwittingly into one of her most famous novels: Jane Eyre...


	5. Part 2 - Meeting the Doctor

**THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MISS BRONTE**

 **PART II - LONDON 2018**

 **Chapter 5 -** ** _Meeting the Doctor_**

Once the two women had arrived in East Finchley, they headed directly towards Clara's flat on a quiet street. Charlotte felt more at ease here, away from the noise of the city centre. Clara's place was a small affair, with one bedroom, bathroom, a small living area and a kitchen.

"Take a seat," said Clara politely, as they walked into the living room. Charlotte thought this was a cozy home, but she was awe-struck at all the gadgets and machines in the kitchen and the electric lighting, which made her jump as Clara turned it on. She was particularly interested in the smart TV, which seemed all but a slim black shiny monstrosity to her at first.

"Would you like some tea?" Clara asked Charlotte, politely.

"Yes, please," answered a bewildered Charlotte, fascinated by the television. "Pray, what is that machine for?" she pointed gingerly, afraid what the answer might be.

Clara smiled, feeling bemused, and explained the concept of what a television was for. "It's the newest technology. I can even connect it to my smartphone." Clara laughed at Charlotte's disgruntled expression, turning on her TV to demonstrate.

"It all seems so advanced," said Charlotte, staring at the moving pictures, an impossibility in her mind. She was fascinated by how vivid the colours were, saying: "I can hardly believe my eyes." Nothing seemed impossible in this world, but it was a world she would normally never have come to see. "You should consider yourself lucky!" beamed Clara. "You would never have seen any of this, had it not been for that little stone angel minx!" Charlotte enjoyed Clara's hearty laugh and her positive attitude. She began to feel more at ease as she sipped her Chamomile tea.

"What was that creature that attacked me, though? Do you know?" Charlotte inquired. "Well," Clara began, "there is someone who can explain it better than me. He's called the Doctor. We're waiting for him now." "And who, pray, is this Doctor?" Charlotte asked, puzzled. "Well," Clara continued, "he is a very special man. He can help you get back home." "Oh!" Charlotte cried out in surprise. In all the hurry, she had completely lost her wits, as she had been so distracted. She now began to wonder if this girl was in her right mind, but she had no other choice than to trust her anyway.

"That would be wonderful," Charlotte said then, thinking of her sisters and her father who must be dying of worry. "You can trust me," Clara answered Charlotte's unspoken woes. "I know it all seems a bit strange, but you're in good hands, believe me." Charlotte nodded, hoping this was true.

She sighed deeply. What a day it had been! When she finished her tea, Charlotte asked Clara to see some more of the modern technology, so Clara led her to the kitchen, showing her all the electronic devices. "How practical!" Charlotte said, inspecting the microwave. "So, it has a similar function to a stove, only you can control the amount of heat and the time it should be warmed up at?" Clara nodded. "Quite spectacular!"

Once they had established how electricity worked, Charlotte began to play with the light switch in the hallway, turning the light on and off. "I feel like a magician," she grinned like a child. Clara laughed, amused. "Is there anything else you need? Are you hungry? Would you like to clean up?" Charlotte thought for a minute, "Well, I would like to wash my face and tidy my hair, if that is agreeable to you." "Of course," said Clara and showed Charlotte to the bathroom.

After Charlotte had freshened herself up, she joined Clara in the living room again. The girl was sitting cross-legged like a turk on the sofa, and currently seemed to be rifling through a women's magazine. "Would you like something to read?" Clara then asked, picking up today's newspaper and handing it to Charlotte.

Immediately, words from various headlines caught Charlotte's eye:

 **Lowood - Abuse – Scandal!**

She simply said, "Thank you, dear. I'll take a look," much more intrigued by the attention-grabbing headlines than she showed on the surface.

After about twenty minutes had gone by the two women heard a heavy clanging noise coming from the bedroom and a very loud _whooorp whoorp_ noise. Charlotte jumped out of her skin. "What now?" she thought. "Oh," Clara smiled, "that'll be the Doctor." Charlotte felt that feeling of confusion overcoming her again, as she gingerly followed Clara to the bedroom.

As she walked in, Charlotte couldn't believe her eyes. There was a giant blue police box in the middle of the room, and the door was slowly opening! She didn't know whether to run or hide, but there was no time for either. An elderly man with short light grey was now appearing in the doorway, stepping over the threshold.

"Hello ladies!" the Doctor greeted the two women cheerily. "How are you doing today?"

Clara ran towards him joyfully. "At last! I thought you were never going to come!" He hugged the girl affectionately, then turned to Charlotte, beaming.

"And you must be Charlotte Brontë! Didn't know I'd ever see the day! What an honour!" They shook hands. "What do you mean? You know

me?" "Oh," the Doctor said mysteriously, "yes, I know you, and so does the entire world. You'll be famous in the future!" Clara gave the Doctor a slight nudge. "Should you be telling her all this?" "Don't worry," the tall grey-haired man said, winking at her.

The Doctor seemed very wordly to Charlotte. She was rather impressed with his up-beat attitude. It seemed she was in good hands after all. Soon, the Doctor explained to Charlotte how she had been transported from her home of Haworth in 1846 to future London in 2018. "The concept of time-travel is a very complicated thing, but that is what happened to you. Unfortunately, these stone angels are not our friend, and I was very lucky to have been able to find you. It doesn't always happen that way."

Charlotte listened with interest, but she could hardly keep up with what had happened, so she tried not to think about what the Doctor had told her too much, her brain was already buzzing. "Are we ready to go?" the Doctor then said energetically, jumping up from his seat. "No more time to waste," he said, clapping his hands, adding "Chop, chop!"

And with that, the three of them walked into the TARDIS and began their journey back home. "Oh my Lord!" Charlotte cried, as she stared around the TARDIS, "it's bigger on the inside!" The Doctor laughed once more, replying smugly, "They always say that." Then he continued, "There is just one more stop I need to make on the way. So hold on ladies!" And without further ado, they were off, the Doctor madly pressing buttons and pulling levers inside the gigantic space ship.

XXX

They came to a halt on the minute hand of the Great Clock of Westminster, something the Doctor had always wanted to do. It was 7:15 pm and London was aglow. Bright sparkling lights lit up the city. "I feel like Peter Pan," laughed Clara.

"That was the point," the Doctor smirked. "Say goodbye to your future London adventure, Miss Brontë, for it's all going to be over soon." Charlotte smiled. Then the three of them got back into the TARDIS and whizzed off, back to the place Charlotte called home: Haworth.

They landed with a soft thud. Charlotte's stomach felt slightly queezy from the journey. The Doctor looked at her. "Ready to go home?" he said, seeing Charlotte's worried expression. She nodded, not entirely sure she was ready.

She didn't dare hope that she was actually back in Haworth for fear of being disappointed. The Doctor slowly opened the door of the TARDIS and stepped outside. "Oh, it's freezing!" he complained, not comfirming they had landed in the right place.

"Let's go," said Clara. "He's toying with us," she chortled. And, sure enough, as Charlotte followed Clara outside, she knew she was home again.

-To be continued-


	6. Part 3 - Home Sweet Home

**THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MISS BRONTE**

 **PART III - HAWORTH PARSONAGE 1846**

 **Chapter 6 - _Home Sweet Home_**

Haworth parsonage was a humble place, rather grey and dull-looking from the outside, but nevertheless, it had its charm. It was a small house, but it looked neat and tidy, it's tiny windows looking out onto the graveyard. This was where they landed.

The gravestones were covered in snow, like little white hats were covering them. Charlotte was elated to be back home again and couldn't wait to see her siblings and father. She trembled slightly as they made their way to the front door and knocked. A small blonde lady appeared in the doorway, dressed in a long-sleeved green gown.

"CHARLOTTE!" she shrieked, jumping into her sisters arms joyfully.

"You're home!" Turning round, she yelled up the stairs, "Father, Emily! Come down at once! Charlotte's back!" After a few minutes, an elderly man came up behind the girl, grumbling, "Anne? What is all this racket about?" He was followed by a stern-looking woman, who looked rather sullen by comparison to her sister. This was Emily. She looked a lot more serious than Anne who seemed so filled with joy. The worry was still visible on Emily's face when she laid eyes on Charlotte, but her expression changed instantaneously when the fact that her sister had finally returned seemed to sink in.

Emily smiled cautiously then, as if barely allowing herself to be relieved. When Mr. Brontë caught Charlotte's eye, he inhaled sharply, looking stunned: "Charlotte!" he breathed. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, father," said Charlotte obediently, coming forward to hug him tightly.

There seemed to be a great amount of respect between the two of them. Clara noticed this in the way Charlotte's father behaved with his daughter. He didn't speak much, but Charlotte seemed to understand him well. When the family had finished celebrating their reunion, they first began to notice Clara and the Doctor still standing outside.

"And who might you be?" Mr. Brontë asked Clara.

"My name is Clara," she said quickly, "and this," she continued pointing at the Doctor, "this is…-" But she could barely finish her sentence when Mr. Brontë blurted out: "Detective!", having recognised him immediately. "How wonderful! Come on in! There's much to talk about."

And so, the six of them headed inside the parsonage for a cup of tea and a long chat about what had happened to Charlotte – all lies of course, but Emily knew the truth. She later confronted the Doctor when the others had retired to the living room:

"Detective-" she began hesitantly when they were alone in the kitchen. "You know I was there when it happened. Could you tell me how all of these mysterious happenings are to be explained? Where have you really been?"

The Doctor knew he had to tread carefully at this point, so he decided to call Charlotte as well who was in the living room with Anne, Clara and her father. "I think it's best if your sister tells you first hand," said the Doctor to Emily. "If there are any questions, I can fill in the blanks," he continued, rather pragmatically.

When Charlotte had been called into the kitchen, she suggested: "I think we could do with an evening stroll, don't you think? We want to avoid being overheard. Our brother is upstairs. He may be sick, but he is rather irascible these days."

"I agree, then," said Emily. "Doctor? Will you join us?" He declined politely. "But I do think, if the two of you have such a great secret between you, it might create a wedge between you and Anne, so you had better tell her as well." The Doctor then headed into the living room where Clara and Mr. Brontë were waiting and the three sisters headed outside.

Once out of earshot, Charlotte shared the details of her journey with her sisters, Emily and Anne. "This is all rather marvellous," said Emily. "And barely to be believed," added Anne, raising her eyebrows.

Charlotte nodded in agreement, saying pensively, "I think there are some things that simply cannot be rationally explained. It seems the world has a lot more mystery to offer than we thought."

* * *

That night, Clara and the Doctor slept in the Brontë parsonage as honoured guests, as Mr. Brontë had insisted on thanking them with his hospitality. It was the least he could do, he had said.

"After all," he had told the Doctor, "you and your friend brought my daughter home. I know there must be more to the story than you told me, but I don't mind not knowing. I am old, you see, and I appreciate you protecting me from the truth."

He smiled wrily, knowing the Doctor hadn't expected him to see through the lies he had been told.

"Alright then, Sir," the Doctor responded respectfully. "We are always happy to be of help!" Clara laughed nervously, wondering how the Doctor could remain so relaxed.

After a good breakfast, and a long goodbye from Mr. Brontë, Emily and Anne, the Doctor and Clara went for a walk on the moors, joined by Charlotte. The snow had melted in most places and the sun had come out at long last. Even though the air was still frosty, birds were chirping in the trees and it seemed spring was in the air.

"So," said the Doctor as the three of them walked side by side on the moors, "our adventure has finally come to an end." He seemed in high spirits despite the imminent departure.

"I must say, it's been one to remember!" he added.

"It has indeed," said Charlotte, as she wondered how strange a life this man must lead in order to respond so nonchalantly to any situation. What type of creatures he must have encountered in his time! It was beyond her wildest dreams.

"So, this is farewell," said the Doctor once more, coming to a halt near an oak tree.

"I can't believe it's all over!" said Clara, seeming unusually shaken up.

"There, there Clara," the Doctor soothed her. "Wipe away those tears. We mustn't dwell on the goodbyes. You never know what the future holds."

Charlotte felt a wave of sadness overcome her in this moment as well, as she knew she would probably never see these people again, although she could barely understand what had happened to her to begin with. She knew this had been a once in a lifetime experience.

"I would ask you to join us on our travels," the Doctor joked then, seeing the forlorn look in Charlotte's eyes, "but I know what's in store for you, Charlotte. Your place is here."

"I think I can finally work on my next novel now," Charlotte agreed. "I have a faint idea what it will be about," the Doctor hinted, a crooked smile on his lips.

After Clara and the Doctor had walked Charlotte back to the parsonage, hugged each other fiercely and wished each other well, Clara and the Doctor were on their own again.

"It's good the TARDIS landed in the bushes over there," said the Doctor, adding, "this way, we could avoid any prying eyes." And as they headed back to the blue police box, Clara now almost called home, she looked up one last time to see if she could spot Charlotte at her window. And there she was indeed, sitting at her desk, fountain pen in hand.

* * *

With time, some of Charlotte's memories of her time-travelling adventure would fade away, and Charlotte would later wonder whether it had all been a mad dream after all, but in this moment, all her memories were still present in her mind, even though she wouldn't be able to use her glimpse into the future in her novel. She would, however, be able to write about a brooding hero called Rochester and an unassuming heroine, called Jane, who bump into each other in a most rude encounter, and would fall in love. Charlotte would write a story of the development of a meek heroine who stood up against the men in her life, speaking her mind. This was a character that Charlotte based on herself, which was why the words began to flow so easily, as she began to write.

After she had jotted down a few ideas, she briefly gazed out of the window, frowning slightly, as her vision was not what it used to be. As she stared into the distance, she caught a glimpse of Clara waving and waved back automatically, smiling faintly. This whole ordeal seemed so far away already, as if it had all happened a long time ago.

Wondering what life would be like with a time-travelling machine, Charlotte then watched as Clara stepped into the TARDIS with the Doctor. They flew off noisily, disappearing into the clouds – and it was lucky none of the neighbours were in earshot. Luckier still for the Doctor and his companion, Charlotte had remained the only witness to the sight of the blue police box whizzing off into the sky.

The Doctor's secret was also never again discussed between the Brontë sisters after this day, but Charlotte did think about the madman with the time-machine from time to time when she let her mind wander, and every time she thought of him, she couldn't help but smile and hope. She hoped that he would return one day and take her on another adventure, but sadly for Charlotte, that day never came.

In a few years from now, though, none of that would matter anymore and Charlotte would be too preoccupied with her own success to think of the Doctor anymore. All three sisters would go on to become famous authors, telling groundbreaking stories of young heroines fighting to assert themselves in a world dominated by men and setting an example for later generations.


End file.
